


paint thinner for brekfast

by okayantigone



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, Jean at USC, M/M, Past Abuse, Sunflowers, coffeeshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 10:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11355591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: Jeremy brings Jean yellow flowers, and gets an art history lesson. Things are okay.





	paint thinner for brekfast

Jeremy picks the flowers on a whim, just a handful of huge grinning sunflowers, bigger than his face. They’re difficult to carry, what with him balancing the drinks carton in his other hand, but he manages it somehow. He avoids getting ran over at the crossing, even though it doesn’t occur to him to check the light, look around, or really, do anything other than have blind faith that the drivers will preserve him (and so many cars honk at him as he goes, and at least a few of those honks are appreciation, not annoyance), but by the time he’s set foot on the other side of the road, he is too distracted to be overly worried about that. 

what if Jean doesn’t want him there. What if Jean is annoyed that Jeremy came? He wishes sometimes, that the other man wasn’t so difficult to read, that he would give Jeremy something, anything - the briefest indication that his efforts really are appreciated. But he understands that there is alimit to how much way Jean can give before he closes off. Their kisses are already pushing the boundary of how far Jean is willing to go, how much of his frayed, broken heart he’s willing to expose again. Jeremy knows when to stop pushing. He knows the best he can do is love Jean, and have faith in him, and if there’s one thing Jeremy Knox is good at, that’s having faith. 

He talks about you all the time to Renee, Kevin had said in their last phone call. If Jean knew that Kevin called regularly to check on him - well. He’d be angry, most likely. Especially if he knew that the things he told to Renne in confidence were sometimes shared with his teammate. But it was the only way to make sure that he was okay - Kevin, the ultimate unwilling expert on all things Raven, and all things Castle Evermore, and therefore - all things Jean. 

He stares at the flowers in his hand, which are bigger than him, and cumbersome, and too hard to carry, and the carton of coffees in his other hand. Is this pushing it? He and Jean have never talked about what they are. Coffee and flowers. Is Jeremy acting like a boyfriend? 

He holds the carton up with his knee, wedges one of the drinks free and drops it in the trash. There. That’s better. Just the flowers. 

He walks into the arts building and the guard greets him cheerfully. “Here to check on your teammate, captain?” 

Jeremy gives him a blinding smile. “Sure am!” 

He takes the stairs instead of the elevator, to compose himself, and lets himself in the studio most Impressionism 343 students use. Jean is there, predictably, sitting on the floor, and staring at the wall, at an empty canvas that’s taller than Jeremy. 

“Hey,” Jeremy says softly, but Jean jumps all the same, and whirls around. The trapped look on his face is something Jeremy wants to erase with his hand, and with his mouth. 

“Oh,” Jean says. “Hello.” it comes off sounding as “Ello.” Jean’s h’s come and go, sometimes. 

“I-” Jeremy feels stupid. Should have brought the coffee. He doesn’t need the flowers. “Still wondering what to do for your final?” 

Jean had been talking about the Impressionism 343 final for a month now - each student was supposed to present a final piece that reflected their personal style and growth through the semester. Jean was, apparently, drawing up blanks about what to present. 

“Yeah.” he says. He doesn’t sound too happy, but Jeremy tries to attribute that to his artist block. He doesn’t sound too angry at being interrupted either. 

“Well um. I brought you these,” Jeremy thrusts the bright yellow flowers forward, and hides behind them. 

“You brought me… sunflowers.” Jean doesn’t make it a question but Jeremy lets out a helpless little “Yes.” anyway. 

“You know,” he adds, uselessly, “Like Van Gogh.” 

“He’s more post impressionist, actually, even though a lot of people group him with the Impressionist movement,” Jean corrects automatically. Then, guessint Jeremy’s forlorn expression behind the almost comically large things, he says, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” 

Showing appreciation to his support network, and the people in his life - that’s something he’d been working on in CBT. 

He takes the flowers. He remembers looking out the window of his mother’s car as they drove through fields and fields of bright yellow flowers, that were taller than he’d been at the time, and saying bye-bye to Marseille. He hadn’t known at the time it was going to be forever. He only found that out later, when the flowers were behind him, and the bruises were blossoming on his body. 

“Saint Remy de Provence,” he says quietly, taking hold of the thick stems and pulling them gently out of Jeremy’s fingers. 

“What?” 

“That’s where Van Gogh saw the sunflowers. It’s a - it’s a region. Place. He was self-admitted in the asylum there. And he would - he would look at the fields of sunflowers.” 

He runs his ugly scarred fingers over the leaves. 

“Oh,” Jeremy says softly. 

“Yeah. He was deeply depressed.” 

“Is it true he ate yellow paint because he was trying to get happier?” 

“He ate paint and drank paint thinner because he was trying to kill himself,” Jean says distractedly, touching the flowers still, focusing on how soft and brittle they are. Like Jeremy. He must he careful how he speaks to Jeremy, or else his beautiful face crumbles, and Jean feels like a monster. 

“They never used to get this big back home. Where thehell did you get these monster GMO Sunflowers, Jer?” 

Back home. He catches himself saying it and the words are out of his mouth and in the air before he can stop himself. He misses Marseille with such a bitter childish ache in his heart it makes him want to break something. Jeremy, to his credit, pretends he didn’t hear. 

“Just - just this lady selling them outside the coffeeshop.” He says, raising his cup. “I saw them and I thought of you.” 

Jean finds it in him to smile. It doesn’t sit quite right on his face, but he tries anyway. 

“Is your name Shawn by any chance?” 

Jeremy bristles. The coffee. He’s thrown the wrong cup in the trash. Not only does Jean know - and holy shit, his gig is up now, but his name is also misspelled! 

“Jeremy did you - come all the way here to get me coffee and flowers?” 

Jean sounds incredulous, but ot accusatory, so Jeremy thinks there might still be hope. He fidgets, moving his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be nice to - you know. I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.” 

Jean cups his chin, tipping his face up. “Shh. I’m not - I’m not upset with you. Did you - did you think I would be?” 

Jeremy feels even stupider now. He shakes his head. “No. No - I just -I don’t want to distract you, or - or bother you, but you’ve been so worried about this, and I just wanted to um - to make sure you’re okay, but I know you don’t like it when I do that, and I -” 

“Jeremy,” Jean interrupts, brushing a thumb over Jeremy’s soft mouth to shut him up. “I’m not mad, or upset. I’m just surprised.” 

Clear communication - another thing he’s been working on in therapy. 

“That’s easily the nicest thing anyone’s done for me,” he says earnestly, and wraps his arms around Jeremy to pull him in against his chest. 

Jeremy is built beautifully - like a sculpture, but Jean still has a couple of inches on him, and a good few more pounds in sheer muscle mass as a backliner. Jeremy sinks into him with a sigh. 

“Thank you,” Jean murmurs in his hair. “For being so wonderful.” 

He thinks Jeremy might have let a muffled little noise at that. 

He pulls away. “Do you have a couple of hours?” he asks. “I have an idea for my final.” 

Jeremy’s smile is the sun. “Sure! Just tell me what you need!” 

“I need you to take these flowers, and my coffee, and go sit on the floor in that corner. You can be on your phone, or listen to music, or, anything really. I just need to get a base sketch, and then um -” 

“Wait. Wait. Are you painting me? Foryour final?” 

Jean tries to close his face off. To not say anything, He wants to take it all back. “Yes,” he says finally, and readies himself for a blow, either verbal or physical. 

 

“Oh, Jean -” Jeremy says, and it takes Jean a moment to realize he’s teared up. Jeremy hugs him again, and hides his face in Jean’s chest. 

“What will you call it?” he asks muffled. 

Jean smiles. “Sunflowers in the Sunshine.” 

Jeremy muffles a happy little sob. “I’m sorry for getting tears and snot on your shirt.” he says but makes no move to disentangle himself from Jean’s arms. 

Jean’s okay with that. He pulls him in a little tighter. This is okay. Holding Jeremy is okay. 

“Jean,” Jeremy murmurs after a while. 

He wonders if he’ll ask Jean to let him go. 

“Yes?” 

“What is Saint Remy the patron of?” 

Jean lets out a huff. 

“You know. The one you mentioned. Saint Remy de Provence - that’s um - that’s named for a saint yeah?” 

“He was just an archbishop,” Jean says. 

He pulls away finally, and uses the corner of his sleeve to wipe Jeremy’s face. 

“Go splash some water on your face, I’m not painting you red-eyed. If I work quick, I can get just the right light before it gets dark outside.” 

Jeremy nods and smiles, beautiful as the sun. “Okay, Jean.” 

Yeah, Jean thinks. He’s okay.


End file.
